


The One With the Boobies

by toooldtobeonhere



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, Masturbation, Naked Female Clothed Male, Naked Male Clothed Female, Naked Molly, Naked Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:43:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toooldtobeonhere/pseuds/toooldtobeonhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First things 1st – this is my 1st piece of fanfiction I've ever written so please be nice. My Grammar etc. is probably terrible so I'll apologise in advance.</p><p>I got thinking about this HC when I watched an episode of friends where Chandler sees Rachel naked. In my HC, Sherlock insists that Molly stay at Baker Street to keep her safe while they figure out Moriarty’s return (end of S3). The inevitable happens. </p><p>I've rated this a Mature as stuff is talked about/implied but nothing really happens but I can change it if anyone has objections etc.</p><p>Text in italics are meant to represent thoughts</p><p>DISCLAIMER: I own nothing!!</p>
    </blockquote>





	The One With the Boobies

**Author's Note:**

> First things 1st – this is my 1st piece of fanfiction I've ever written so please be nice. My Grammar etc. is probably terrible so I'll apologise in advance.
> 
> I got thinking about this HC when I watched an episode of friends where Chandler sees Rachel naked. In my HC, Sherlock insists that Molly stay at Baker Street to keep her safe while they figure out Moriarty’s return (end of S3). The inevitable happens. 
> 
> I've rated this a Mature as stuff is talked about/implied but nothing really happens but I can change it if anyone has objections etc.
> 
> Text in italics are meant to represent thoughts
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing!!

The lab doors banged open as Sherlock bounded into the room, theatrically as usual causing Molly to jump. Hanging his coat up, he took his usual seat at the microscope.

“Hi John” said Molly. “How’s you?” 

“Fine. You?” He smiled.

“Good - for a Monday” she said sardonically as she returned her attention to her work.

 

It took John a few seconds to realise something was wrong. Usually Molly would make chit-chat or make offers of coffee.  Or Sherlock would make some snarky comment or demands of coffee, but this morning they were eerily quiet. 

“OK. What’s wrong?” He sighed. 

“Hmmm?” Molly replied, not looking up.  

“Somethings happened” said John as he looked between Sherlock and Molly each pointedly looking down at their work. With a sigh and an eye roll John turned to Sherlock and said “what did you do?” 

“Why would you just assume I did anything” Sherlock said petulantly. John looked across at Molly. Although she kept her head bowed looking intently at her work, he could tell her face was flushed. Sherlock looked up towards the ceiling and sighed. “She upset because I saw her naked yesterday”.

John gaped at the two. “Sherlock!” he exclaimed.

“What? I don't know what the big deal is” Sherlock protested. Molly, beet red by this point, got up.

“Excuse me” she said moving into her office.

“Jesus Sherlock”, John breathed.

 “She sees naked bodies all the time at work, I don’t see the problem?” replied Sherlock.

“Yeah but they're dead!” John exclaimed. 

“It’s just transport” said Sherlock looking back into the eyepiece. “I wouldn't care if she saw me naked”. Sherlock couldn't tell if it was the mental image of yesterday accident or John’s eyes boring into the side of his head, but a blush started to appear above the neck of his shirt. Peripherally he noticed a smirk appear on John’s face. He got up with a long suffering sigh and walked towards Sherlock and placed his hand on his friend’s back,

“I’d believe you more if there was a slide in there” he said sardonically as they both looked down at the empty microscope stage. John walked out to get a much needed coffee.

 

12 hours earlier.

 

Sherlock arrived back at Baker Street with his usual abruptness. He threw himself down into his chair and exhaled. Toby looked up from John’s chair and then went back to sleep.  The flat was quiet. He wanted tea.

“Mrs Hudson!” he began to yell, when he remembered it was Sunday  - bridge night.

 “Molly!” he shouted. Silence. Her coat and scarf were hanging behind the door so she hadn't gone out and it was only just after 9pm. Surely she wasn't asleep? It was then he heard a creek of a floorboard above him. Panic began to set in and he leapt from his chair and began up the stairs to the 3rd floor. In the dark corridor he could see a sliver of light from her a-jar door. Another creek - someone was definably up here. He approached her door and pushed it open a little more. Instead of some shadowy assassin, he was greeted with the sight of a certain pathologist moving around her room in a towel. 

“Molly” he exhaled, letting out an anxious breath he didn't know he'd been holding. It was then he noticed her headphones ( _white, wireless, expensive, gift, Tom?_ ). She was listening to music that why she hadn't heard him shouting. He was just about to enter the room to let her know he was home, when she dropped the towel and threw it on the bed. Sherlock stood in the gloomy hallway. He knew he should say something or quietly creep back down the stairs but his legs wouldn't move.  Her damp hair was clipped up loosely. Small wisps had escaped and hung down her neck and shoulders leaving rivulets of water. His brain told his legs to move or his eyes to shut but they wouldn’t. It wasn't the first time he'd seen a naked woman before - contrary to Mycroft’s snide comments - but it had been a while. He remembered back to Irene. Her nudity had been used to shock, it wasn't nearly as titillating as this. 

Molly moved from the bed to the chest of drawers. She hummed along with some unheard tune. Sherlock looked down the plains of her body. Her sharp collarbones and shoulder blades. The slope of her breasts ( _not too small, perfect for her frame_ ).  Sherlock pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He wasn't quite sure why though, it was almost instinctual, primitive. He took in the notches of her ribs as she leant forward to take her pyjamas out of a drawer. Flat stomach ( _appendix scar. Barely visible. 20+ years old - before they did them laparoscopically_ ). Gently flared hips ( _left hip. small heart tattoo (!!). 15+ years old_ ) swayed slightly to the music. At their apex, a small, neat triangle of dark hair. A strange, but not unpleasant, heaviness settled in the base of his stomach. Although he been looking for only 20 seconds or so, the moment stretched out in his mind.

 

Molly turned and stood on one leg to pull her pyjama bottoms on, when she saw him. She yelped and drew the fabric up to her chest. 

“I’m sorry!” blurted out Sherlock in a panic.

She moved swiftly to the door and slammed it shut. He blinked a few times and made his way quickly down stairs. Removing his coat at last he sat back down.  He was in a state of shock. He waited for her to come down and admonish him but all was silent. The longer he waited the more awkward it seemed to become.  After an hour or so he got up and went to bed. He didn't want tea anymore.

When he woke the next morning she’d already left for work. 

 

20 hours later.

 

Thankfully Greg had called with a case so she was devoid of Sherlock and John’s company for the rest of her 12 hr shift. As she walked from the tube station to Baker Street she thought about what she was going to say. She felt bad for screaming and slamming her door and for not speaking to him earlier. She wasn't even sure how much he'd even seen. They were both adults. He was right, they do see naked people all the time. He'd hardly been shy since she'd been living there. John had thankfully warned her about his habit of wandering around with just a sheet on. She smiled, wondering what he had thought ( _had he like it?_ ) Although she didn't subscribe to all that ‘women’s magazine’ crap, she knew she had good body for 34 - her boyfriends had usually been most appreciative. As she opened the door she heard a quiet refrain of some unknown concerto being played.

“Hi” she said sheepishly as she entered. Sherlock stopped playing and turned, slowly lowering the violin.

“Hi” he replied.

She turned to hang up her scarf and coat, and as she turned back they simultaneously blurted out “I'm sorry!”

Molly giggled and Sherlock frowned in confusion.

“I shouldn't have been so childish and ignored you. I was just embarrassed that’s all” she replied. Her face and neck blushed. An unwanted thought entered Sherlock’s mind - _how far does that blush go down?_ He shook his head as if to dislodge the intrusive thought.

“No I'm sorry. I'm just not used to sharing a flat with a women. John said I need to be more considerate” replied Sherlock.

“He said that?” Molly laughed.

“Well no, he said I had to be less of a dick, but it amounts to the same thing” Sherlock smiled.

Molly moved to sit on the sofa to remove her shoes. She liked this easy/funny thing they had going, she liked making him awkward and shy. She jokingly added without looking up,

“You know, I think turnabout is fair play?”

Sherlock’s smile dropped. Settling back into the sofa and putting her feet up on the coffee table, Molly said innocently

“well you've seen me naked, I think I should see you. Even up the dynamic a bit. Tit for tat as it were”.

Although her face remained steady, the corner of her mouth flickered at the pun. 

“Well you're not seeing my ‘tat’” replied Sherlock, his eyes glinting at the flirtatious banter. Molly smiled and leant forward slightly as if to rise from her seat. Sherlock didn't want this to end - he wanted more.

“Ok then” he said.

Molly looked up incredulously. “What?”

“I said ok. The body is just transport after all” replied Sherlock.

Frozen to her spot Molly replied “Sherlock, I didn't really mean…”

But it was too late. He began taking off his suit jacket. He hung it neatly on the desk chair. 

_He’s kidding right_? Molly thought. _He’s just doing this to humiliate me so I'll run off covering my eyes like some_ _schoolgirl_.

He was toeing off his shoes when she leant back into the sofa and said nonchalantly “ok”.

 

 _Shit_. He’d semi hoped he'd called her bluff. He kept eye contact with her as he unbuttoned the shirt to the waist pulling the ends out last. She maintained eye contact not daring to look down ( _what the hell am I doing?_ )

 

As he bent down to remove his socks he dropped his gaze and Molly took this instant to survey his body. His form was hard and well defined, not from going to the gym, but from years of running around and getting into fights. Various scars peppered his torso. Molly momentarily felt a pain in her chest at the thought of how he got his injuries. The damage didn't spoil his beauty though - quite the contrary, Molly felt aroused at the danger and excitement they represented. As he stood he looked back to her but her eyes had dropped to his chest. He felt some sort of manly pride -  _does she want me_?

 

He reached the waistband of his trousers when she looked back into his eyes - hardly any brown of her iris was left. He could see her pulse in her carotid artery just about the collar of her shirt. This was now a poker game - who was going to break 1st.

 

“Sherlock” she whispered, offering him the opportunity to stop if he wanted to. His look told her he didn't want to. Undoing the button and slowly pulling the zip down revealed his underwear. They were tight black boxer briefs. Molly swallowed thickly as he pushed them down, past his hips, dropping to the floor with a soft thud. He kicked them away gracefully.

Molly’s eyes traced his fine chest hair ( _lighter than his head_ ) down to the waistband. Sherlock watched her intently. Her obvious arousal was arousing in itself. He felt that same heaviness in his abdomen as last night. He willed his body not to do what it wanted to do next. Last night’s erection was easily dealt with as he recalled the images of earlier, sometimes adding bits - _kissing, licking, pinning her down,fucking her_ – as he stroked himself to fruition. Afterwards he tried to remember the last time he'd done that. The force and speed at which he came reminded him it'd been a while. He'd slept well.

Molly ached to get up and touch him, but she worried that her movements would break the spell. She flexed her fingers and gripped the edge of the sofa. Sherlock watched as her nails dug into the leather.

 _Would she dig her nails into me like that_? he thought as it was his turn to swallow.

 

Like the night before, whole minutes seemed to pass but it was probably merely seconds he thinks later when he'll replay it over (and over) in his mind. Slipping his thumbs under the band he takes a second to steady his nerve. Was he really going to do this? He pushed them down in one fluid movement bending slightly at the waist until they passed his thighs and, like his trousers, they pooled around his ankles. When he looked up Molly's eyes had closed. He felt shameful all of a sudden. Had he embarrassed her? However that notion disappeared when she opened eyes and gazed upon his countenance. Her eyes, now nearly all black, flicked down. He felt his cock twitch and molly let out a small gasp that made his blood thunder in his ears. The leather of the couch creaked slightly as Molly shifted her weight. _Was she about to stand and come over? To stand in front of me? Palm me gently?_

 

“Jesus Sherlock!” came a cry from the door. There stood John and Mary.

Sherlock instinctively cupped himself against their stares. Molly stood quickly and placed herself between the Watsons and Sherlock to hide his nudity.

“This isn't what it looks like!” she blurted out.

John stood glaring at Sherlock while a grinning Mary just leant forward and grasped the door knob.

“Oookaaayyy” she said pulling the door shut. 


End file.
